


Finish It

by ellerkay



Series: Bad Romance [5]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M, No Sex, canon punching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 20:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15937373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerkay/pseuds/ellerkay
Summary: Mulder finds Krycek in the Hong Kong airport and can't decide if he wants to kiss him or kill him.Set during S3E15, "Piper Maru." The fifth in a series showcasing the times Mulder and Krycek had sex during seasons 1-7, written to fit as closely as possible into the cracks of canon. Each story is fairly self-contained.





	Finish It

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a bit of an interlude and outlier in the series; it contains no actual sex and changes canon slightly. It drives me crazy that Mulder sends Krycek into the bathroom alone (WHY WOULD YOU LET HIM OUT OF YOUR SIGHT?!); it's so clearly so the black oil possession can happen. This story explains why Mulder would leave him alone for even a second, and felt right for this series.
> 
> This story's title is taken from a line from the episode which is contained in the fic.

Hitting Krycek was like fucking him: violent and satisfying. And almost as intimate. Their bodies flush; Mulder’s hands all over Krycek as he checked him for weapons; Krycek’s wide eyes and harsh, panting breaths; Mulder pressing the gun into Krycek’s stomach…It was a dark echo of their past liaisons. Mulder was all too aware of Krycek’s warmth, his smell. Even through the fury and the adrenaline, there was a part of him which remembered that body against his in a very different scenario. A part which, despite everything, wanted to strip Krycek bare and fuck him right there in the airport.

Mulder shoved the urge away, and his anger calmed – a little – as Krycek dared him to shoot.

“Come on, finish it, come on,” Krycek said. “Do it!’ There was something wild and desperate in his eyes, and Mulder forced himself to step away, fighting back a treacherous swell of pity.

He kept his gun trained on Krycek as they talked, and finally agreed that he would consider letting him go if Krycek put the digital tape in his hands.

Blood flowed sluggishly from Krycek’s nose. He looked afraid, and still desperate. Another, highly unwelcome throb of sympathy rose up in Mulder’s chest.

“Let’s go to the bathroom and you can get cleaned up,” he said, even though a large part of him wanted to just shove a couple napkins into Krycek’s hands and let him do his best with that. “Try anything and I’ll kill you.” If Krycek was bleeding, Mulder reasoned, they’d attract too much attention. He was letting Krycek wash up out of pragmatism, not pity.

Krycek seemed to relax slightly, eyes no longer round as saucers, and the suggestion of a smile flitted briefly across his face. It almost looked like gratitude, but Mulder couldn’t be sure.

The bathroom was deserted. Krycek splashed some water on his face.

“Miss me?” he asked, as he dried his hands.

Mulder laughed bitterly. “Yeah, I’ve still got some family left I was hoping you could take care of.”

Krycek threw the paper towels away and stepped up close to him. Mulder tensed and pressed the gun into Krycek’s side, but Krycek didn’t bat an eye.

“I didn’t want to kill your father,” he said. “But I had to follow orders. You don’t know what they’re like when you disobey.” A shadow passed over his face. “I do, now. It’s been hell, running from them.”

“Let me play you a sad song on the world’s smallest violin,” Mulder snapped. Anger, he had to hold on to the anger, and ignore the sick twist of arousal in his gut at Krycek’s proximity. It was somehow even more intense than when he’d trusted Krycek; bound up now in rage and betrayal and the too-clear memory of how good it had been.

Krycek smiled like it hurt him. “So quick to judge. You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you stabbed me in the back, and murdered my father.”

Krycek met Mulder’s eyes, unblinking. “ _I_ know what you sound like when you come.” Mulder’s breath hitched and his free hand clenched, caught between arousal and anger.

“I’d like to hear it again,” Krycek continued, smiling lazily. “I missed _you_. And I think you missed me, too. Even if you’ve convinced yourself otherwise.”

He angled his face up, and Mulder actually started to lean in before he caught himself. He shoved Krycek away, hard. Krycek stumbled back and when he looked up again, his expression was angry – or was it hurt? – whatever it was, it was gone in a second, replaced by another smirk.

“Your loss,” he said.

“We’re leaving,” Mulder snapped.

“Gotta piss,” Krycek said, sliding a hand obscenely over his crotch and looking up at Mulder from under his eyelashes. Mulder’s stomach lurched, and he wasn’t sure if it was from desire or fury. Suddenly he felt like he was suffocating, drowning in anger and horrifying lust, and thought that if he stayed in that room a minute longer, he might either fuck Krycek or beat him to death.

“You have two minutes,” Mulder said. He spun on his heel and left the bathroom. It was probably not a great idea, but he’d seen there was nowhere Krycek could escape to, and he desperately needed some air.

When he rounded the corner, he leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath. A woman passed him; he barely glanced at her, too wrapped up in his own thoughts.

Krycek emerged a couple minutes later. His posture seemed different than before; less petulant, his spine straighter. Mulder chalked it up to confidence after the head-games (god, how had he come so close to falling for them _again_?) and didn’t give it another thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Fair play to you, Mulder; for once you actually didn't have sex with him!


End file.
